


In Movements, In Manners

by sinuous_curve



Category: The Avengers
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, F/F, Femslash, Genderswap, Sexswap, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-22
Updated: 2011-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-23 22:50:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/255946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinuous_curve/pseuds/sinuous_curve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Steph knows that Tony has cameras in every room of the mansion. “It’s a security precaution,” Tony said, shrugging, when Steph asked. “Too much shit goes down in this place.” </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	In Movements, In Manners

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed like hell. Femme!vengers assemble and all that.

Steph comes out of the bathroom toweling off her hair, bare feet shuffling against the thick carpet and leaving behind a trail of damp footprints imprinted on the floor. The mansion is quiet and muted so late at night; Steph can feel the pleasant ache from her late workout settling into her muscles. Her sheets calls out like a siren.

At the foot of her bed she gives her hair a last vigorous rub and neatly drapes her towel over the iron arm of the duvet. Her room has been slow in coming to represent her rather than Tony’s expensive interior decorators. She’s always found the little couch a slightly ridiculous means of taking up room, but it’s undeniably handy when it comes to storage.

She’s naked beneath her robe, warm from the hot water and feeling soft and sensual. Which is a good part of the reason why she glances over her shoulder to the small opaque black circle in the upper corner of her room, placed unobtrusively behind the dresser.

Steph knows that Tony has cameras in every room of the mansion. “It’s a security precaution,” Tony said, shrugging, when Steph asked. “Too much shit goes down in this place.”

Casually, Steph turns a half circle so she’s facing toward the camera rather than away. It’s perhaps a bit too nonchalant, she knows. But she’s not particularly interested in _fooling_ Tony anyway. It’s something else entirely. She tosses her hair over her shoulder, like the women in the shampoo commercials that still strike her as vaguely pornographic.

She pictures Tony sitting in her massive chair in her private office, looking at the arrayed bank of screens that can show every last detail of the mansion as Tony pleases. Steph hopes (maybe knows, if she’s honest) that they’re all trained on her.

Steph slowly undoes the knot in her robe, letting the soft fabric slip between her fingers. There’s a tactile pleasure in the way it feels against her fingertips. So much about this new time feels decadent to her, thoughtlessly and wonderfully indulgent. Sometimes existing feels hedonistic to Steph, in a way that makes her warm and dizzy and ashamed and excited all at the same time.

With the same care, deliberate and maybe a touch teasing, Steph draws her fingers along the gap in her robe and eases it open. Her robe brushes over her stomach and hips and thighs and breasts. It slips down her arms and back, catching for a moment on her rear and then puddling on the floor around her feet.

Steph splays her hands over her hips for a moment. There’s always a moment of intense, bright shame at being naked. It’s bright and sharp, like a shock down all her nerves, then settles into something hotter and more luxurious.

“Are you watching me?” she asks, staring directly at the camera.

She runs her hands over her skin, up her hips and across her belly. She’s still enthralled by the strong cut of the muscles in her stomach and side, after so many years of feeling stick skinny bones and feeling like she was made of glass and tissue paper. Her ribs are like strong, solid ivory piano keys beneath her finger tips. She grazes her fingers over the thatch of hair between her legs, thick and light brown and curly.

“Come down here,” she says, biting her bottom lip. “Tony.”

Even though she’s hoping that Tony isn’t watching any more as she busts down two stories to Steph room, she keeps up touching herself. She cups her breasts in her hands; they’re heavy and full and when she scrapes her thumbnails across her nipples a jolt of electric warmth ricochets between her hips and settles in a warm pool at her cunt.

The heavy knock doesn’t surprise her and still makes her jump. She walks steadily to the door and opens it calmly, even though her heart’s thumping beneath her ribs and her mouth is dry with want. “Yes?” she asks, peering at Tony through the four inch gap between door and frame.

Tony’s hair is disheveled and her eyes are bright and hard. “You are a fucking _tease_ ,” Tony hisses, angling her body into the gap. “Stephanie fucking Rogers, you are a _fucking tease_.”

“What?” Steph asks mildly, opening the door and pulling Tony inside. “I can’t be naked in my own room?”


End file.
